


The Value of Satisfaction

by lionessvalenti



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, M/M, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vane tests a theory about Flint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Value of Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



Footsteps moved through the halls of the fort, closer to Flint, crushing the dirt beneath a heavy foot. Flint turned to look at his guest, and turned back to the gold when he saw who was joining him.

"Are you satisfied?" Vane asked.

"The situation isn't ideal," Flint replied, picking up a coin from the crates that lined the walls of the fort. "The fort won't be able to protect it, not in its current condition, but--"

Vane held up a hand to silence him. "No. Not the negotiations. You started all of this. We wouldn't be standing here if you hadn't gone looking for it. It's here and it's just as much yours as it is any of ours. So tell me, are you satisfied?"

Flint studied Vane's face, half in shadow, and then turned his gaze to the coin in his hand. "I wish I could say yes. I've lost too much in its pursuit. I can only see it for what it gives us."

"And what's that?"

"Leverage."

Vane stepped in front of him, fully illuminated by the torchlight. "And you seek no personal gain?"

"Everything is personal," Flint said. He tossed the coin back into the box where he'd retrieved it. It rang against the other coins and even managed a quiet echo through the hall. "None of us are above our own reasons. My gains are not to be rich. If they were, we'd have no use for a pact, or steps forward outside of rebuilding the fort to protect the gold. There are bigger things at stake for all of us."

"If not, we'd never have been partners."

Flint looked back at Vane. There was something in his tone, needling for the conversation to go where he'd like it to. "No, I imagine not," Flint said, narrowing his eyes.

"It's been a long time since I've shared pacts and loyalty," Vane said. "And I never thought I'd trust you."

"Nor I you," Flint agreed. "But our interests are the same for the first time. Now, I imagine you didn't come here to marvel at our partnership, did you?"

Vane smirked, only the corners of his lips turning upward. "There are always boundaries to push, but lines we never cross. But we're partners now, aren't we?" He took a step forward, moving into Flint's space, their boots touching. He ducked his head close to Flint's face.

Flint moved back, but didn't step away. He tried to read Vane's eyes, but it was hard through the layer of amusement at Flint's discomfort.

"I've noticed things over the years," Vane said, his voice lower now that his mouth was only inches away from Flint's face. "But I was never in a position to test my theories. But since we have such mutual respect now." He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to Flint's.

His mouth was hot, and his hands were suddenly everywhere, grabbing Flint around the back of the neck, around the small of his back, and pulling him closer. Flint wrapped a hand around Vane's powerful forearm and squeezed. The rasp of stubbled chins brushing against each other made Flint's stomach sink. It was so familiar and sudden, and--

Flint shoved Vane away. "You could get killed for that. You're fortunate no one saw. That I wouldn't say a word, not now."

Vane only laughed and wiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "You're only angry because you liked it."

Whether or not he liked it was not the point. He hadn't had time to think about whether or not he liked it. "Do you kiss all your partners?"

"Not all of them," Vane said. "Few, in fact. Jack never seemed to mind, and I didn't think you would. You guard yourself more than any man I've ever met, but I knew you were like me. But I'm sure you'd rather deny yourself any pleasure than let anyone know, not even those who would take pleasure with you. Suffer in silence. Be a martyr to your losses."

"You know nothing about me. You know nothing of my losses," Flint growled, clenching his hands into fists. He could picture himself beating Vane into a bloody heap, but now wasn't the time to be killing a man he'd just sworn an oath to. And Vane knew that. There was no risk for Vane, outside of getting caught, even if Flint truly saught to kill him. He could get his hands on Vane, but was his desire fueled by violence -- or by lust? The closeness of Vane to him, the warmth of his body, and the confidence of his kiss, it was intoxicating.

"I know enough about you to know that you're thinking about it," Vane said. "I know that you want to. Neither of us gain anything from speaking of this. But we gain more than leverage from indulging."

Flint stared, his heart pounding in his ears. His silence, his hesitation, it was giving him away every second he stood there instead of leaving. "What do you want?"

Vane smirked again. "Whatever you'll give to me."

Flint considered for a moment Vane's mouth. He considered what once brought him pleasure, what he perhaps enjoyed the most in his past, and then dropped to his knees in front of Vane. Heat burned up the back of his neck and spread down his back and into his arms as he pulled at Vane's belts until his trousers opened. Vane's cock, half hard already, hung in front of Flint's face, but he took no time to admire it. He wrapped his mouth around the head and sucked it loudly, before taking in even more, feeling it harden under his lips.

Vane rocked his hips in time with the movement of Flint's mouth. "Fuck," he mumbled. "Oh, fuck."

The weight of Vane's cock in his mouth felt like something out of a dream, and one that he should not be having. It threatened to pound against the back of his throat with each thrust of Vane's hips. The heat spreading throughout Flint's body began to spike deep within his stomach, and dropping even lower. He reached down and grabbed himself through his trousers.

Flint tilted his head to the side and relaxed his jaw, allowing the hot tip of Vane's cock to plow into the soft hollow of his cheek a few times before leaning back to wrap his lips around the sensitive head. It was second nature, and the heat prickled hotter at the back of his neck, his stomach turning.

Vane wrapped his hands around the back of Flint's head, fingers twisting around his hair. He yanked Flint's head back by his hair. The cock fell from Flint's mouth and they were looking each other in the eye. "You're better at this than any whore," Vane said, and it seemed as though it was meant to be a compliment.

Flint looked away. He shouldn't have been doing this. This was his chance to get up and leave, but the cock in front of him seemed even more tempting now than it had been moments ago, now fully hard, and glistening with saliva. He could get up, swear death upon Vane if he spoke of this moment. There was just as much to lose now as there was ten years ago. How could Vane be so proud of his desire? Yes, he could leave right now and no one would ever know.

Instead, he wrapped his hands around the base of Vane's cock and stroked it as he licked the head, wiping away the salty liquid that dribbled from the tip. Flint took the whole of the cock in his mouth once again, his head bobbing up and again.

"Fuck!" Vane exclaimed, his voice echoing off the walls, carrying God knows where and being heard by God knows who. They may have been alone in the hall, but they weren't alone in the fort.

Mouth full, Flint tried to quiet him, but it only served to make Vane swear louder. His swears, thankfully, lowered into groans as he came.

Flint tried to swallow as much of the come as he could, but he only managed to cough and choke, pulling away to spit on the seed on the ground. He reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as a flood of tears filled his eyes. He began to breathe harder and louder to try and temper his emotions. He could suck Vane's cock, but he could never let Vane see him cry.

How could he want this now? How could something that had once been so special be reduced to _this_? How could he have ever enjoyed this? How could he have been so weak in front of his former adversary? He was exposed. Vane had this over his head, and they could both be ruined for it.

He didn't dare look up, though he could sense the rustle of Vane pulling up his trousers.

"Flint," Vane said, his voice somehow softer, perhaps offering an invitation for something else. For something more.

Flint closed his eyes. "I hate you," he whispered.

Vane rested his hand on top of Flint's head for a few moments, and the heat of shame melted into warmth. Then he left Flint alone.

Flint stayed there, and the one question Vane asked him kept repeating over and again in his mind. If he left it alone, it could haunt him.

Was he satisfied?


End file.
